


Chasing the cold away

by Cassia_javanica



Category: Avengers, Clint/Coulson - Fandom, Hawkeye - Fandom, Marvel
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassia_javanica/pseuds/Cassia_javanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Agent Coulson and  Barton have to stay overnight in a cold safe house one of them doesn't exactly stick to the handbook-rules of warming up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing the cold away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fangirlSevera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlSevera/gifts).



Hello fellow writers/readers,

this is my entry for the Clint/Coulson Holiday Exchange.  
My exchange partner is “fangirlSevera” and the prompt was “Having to share body heat for comfort/survival”.  
fangirlSevera, I hope I managed to meet your expectations and you enjoy the story :)  
I want to thank the exchange mods for their help and keeping things organized.   
And, last but not least, a great many thanks to Caity (caityjay) for being an awesome beta! The story would not be presentable without you ;)

 

~~~~~~~~

"Damn it!" Clint cursed, throwing his bow aside. Which said a lot about his level of exhaustion, actually, because normally he would have checked twice if his bow was stored away safely.   
Coulson raised an eyebrow.  
"Sorry," Clint mumbled, rubbing a hand across his face. "It’s just.. it’s not fucking fair! We’ve been in the cold for this mission for more than 74 damn hours, I’m freezing to the bone, we won’t get out till 7 am tomorrow and this safe house here’s a joke.”  
He gestured vaguely towards the gaping hole in the roof.

 

The so called 'house' was more or less a wooden shack, windows and doors had been nailed up so long ago that most of them had fallen off again by now, which admittedly had made it easier for them to get in, but meant that there was no way it could keep out the cold.   
Though to simply say it was 'cold' would be quite an understatement. At least it had stopped snowing a while ago, but the bone-chillingly cold air made more than up for that.  
Clint knew he should probably search for something to cover the holes in the roof and the walls with but he was so goddamn exhausted that he couldn’t keep his body from shaking. Not the best conditions for repair work; he probably would only make the damage worse.

 

Coulson looked over to his trembling asset. If Clint hadn't been so caught up in whether to curse some more or just give up and pass out on the wooden floor, he would have noticed a flicker of uncertainty in Coulson’s eyes before it passed and the well worn mask of calm and confidence was back in place.  
“I know these aren’t the best conditions, but we might as well make the most of it and go to bed. We have enough time left before the extraction to get a good rest - and we both need it.”

 

Clint snorted at the word 'bed', eyeing the sparse mattress lying on the floor, but kept his mouth shut.  
It was barely three feet wide, which meant that either one of them had to search for another place to sleep – which he highly doubted they would find, considering that most of the floor was either wet with snow or covered in dirt and splinters – or they’d have to share.

 

They had shared a bed during missions before, simply because it was easier, cheaper and safer to stay together in one room, but usually those beds were at least big enough that they both had lots of space for themselves.   
In this case, however, they didn’t have that luxury… and if they really planned to sleep here , then they’d be very, very close together.

 

Clint turned around, trying to get his thoughts under control and cleared his throat before speaking.  
“I think I’d rather take a watch, just to be on the safe side. There’ll be enough time to sleep when we are at SHIELD.”   
He had decided to take the easy way out; his normal principle ‘no risk, no fun’ wasn't valid for his relationship with Coulson.

 

“You know that the term ‘safe house’ comes from the fact that these places tend to be safe for us to rest. Besides what do you think you should watch for? Rabbits? There’s nobody outside, vast wide snow fields aren't exactly perfect for hiding, and if a vehicle or anything else approaches we’ll both be wide awake in an instant.”   
Coulson loosened his tie before sliding it off completely.  
“Now come on, Barton, get over here.”

 

Clint swallowed hard. He stayed where he was, watching like his life depended on it while Coulson got rid of his clothes in slow, efficient movements.   
The way Coulson’s suit jacket slid off his shoulders in one go made his heart quicken its pace and it refused to calm down when Coulson continued to unbuttoned his shirt.   
Clint lowered his eyes in a sudden movement of shyness. He’d rarely ever seen Coulson without his suit jacket let alone anything less than two layers of clothes. 

 

The faint sound of someone chuckling made him raise his eyes again. At first he wasn't sure if he’d heard right — besides, Coulson in his underwear was a hell lot distracting — but the humor glistening in his handler’s eyes helped to prove the almost surreal fact that Coulson was really, actually snickering at him!  
“Barton, are you blushing?”  
Clint didn’t knew what to say, he obviously wasn’t, ‘cause there was no way that he was blushing right now, it had to be the lighting or something but before he could come up with a response Coulson stepped towards him, hesitating a split second before reaching out to overcome the last few inches between them.  
He was unable to move a muscle while his handler started to undress him. 

 

Unlike Coulson with his well tailored suit, who normally didn't take part in battles unless it was absolutely necessary — just as all handlers were supposed to — Clint’s uniform was more functional protection than elegant clothing.  
Strangely, Clint felt like it was more than this physical protection that was removed when Coulson peeled back the layers of his uniform piece by piece.   
He felt utterly vulnerable and still, against better judgment, he let Coulson continue.

 

He tried to reason with himself; it wasn’t about them at the moment, it was simply a handler taking care of his stubborn asset by taking things into his own hands, but his heart refused to calm down nonetheless. Neither could he suppress that ridiculous, fluttering feeling in his stomach, whenever Coulson’s hand touched his bare skin...   
However, when Coulson reached for his belt Clint gripped his wrist before he could go any further.  
“I... I think I better keep that on.”

 

Coulson smiled at him, with a certain warmth that stood in harsh contrast to the deathly cold air that hit Clint’s skin.  
“You read the manual, didn’t you?”  
Clint bit his lip, knowing he’d lost.  
“It’s scientifically proven that skin on skin contact works faster and better for sharing body heat and that a certain level of warmth is absolutely necessary, especially when trying to relax.”  
“Yeah, sure, I know, but... I think I should…maybe I’ll just...”  
Coulson interrupted him before Clint could get tangled up in his words too much.  
“I won’t hurt you Clint. You know that, right?”

 

Clint looked up, afraid what Coulson would be able to see in his eyes.   
Of course he knew that Coulson would never physically hurt him without a reason, but words and actions could cut so much deeper anyway, and he felt like he was on such precarious ground…   
He had no idea how Coulson would react or what would happen if he knew just how much Clint really liked him. The mere thought of getting transferred and losing Phil – Coulson – as his handler made his gut clench in a way that hurt a lot more than any physical wound he’d ever had.

 

Instead of giving an answer he simply surrendered, loosening his belt and sliding off his pants. With having to fight against both his heart’s desire and Coulson's firm expression he didn't stand a chance.   
His pants pooled on the floor, and instead of taking his time like Coulson had to carefully fold them Clint simply stepped over them and went towards the bed.   
He made sure that his inner turmoil wasn't visible, either on his face or through his body language.   
If he hesitated maybe a bit too long before kneeling down, then it was just because he wanted to give Coulson the choice to decide on which side he wanted to sleep on.   
He was an agent; he knew how to fake confidence perfectly, thank you very much!

 

Coulson stretched out on the thin, cotton cover that was draped over the porous mattress. Clint could still feel the hard, wooden floor under his knees, but his attention was focused on something else entirely.   
Though it was essentially dark outside, the snow was reflecting enough moonlight to create a milky shimmer inside the shack.   
Being so close to his handler, Clint could see the strange pattern that light cast on their skins, the shadows highlighting every scar and mark and making them look more like decorations than involuntary flaws. It was breathtakingly beautiful. 

 

It was as if Coulson's life story was spread out on his skin for him, every mark telling its own story; mostly of missions, but there were one or two that looked like childhood remnants.   
Coulson didn't move at all, though it must have been painfully obvious that Clint was staring at him. There was just a slight smile playing round the edges of his mouth that maybe gave away that he had noticed.

 

Clint swallowed, allowing himself one last second to take in the sight and then gathering the courage to lower himself down to lay beside Coulson.   
Though there were still a few inches between them – because Clint laid stiffly right at the outer edge of the mattress – he could already feel the warmth radiating from Coulson’s body and had to fight hard against the urge to get closer out of instinct.

 

A shiver ran down his spine when Coulson accidentally touched his back while draping the thin cover over them and his handler gave him a questioning look. Clint didn't even notice, too caught up in his attempt to breathe evenly.   
Neither of them spoke a word till Coulson broke the awkward silence.  
“If you want to, you can turn around so that we could…”  
“No!”  
The answer came out harsh before Clint could even think about it. It certainly sounded like rejection, as if he didn't want to turn his back on Coulson because he didn't trust him or anything — while in reality there was a completely different reason Clint had reacted so taken aback :   
If he turned around Coulson would get closer, maybe even put his arm around him or touch his back, because it was more comfortable to sleep that way; because the closer they were the better they could share body heat.   
But to Clint, it would have felt like cuddling, like lying in a lover's embrace. And it would have broken his heart to know that while being so physically close to Coulson he’d never be able to achieve the same closeness emotionally.   
He wasn't fooling himself; times like this would be the only chance he'd get to be this close to Coulson, when it was necessary for survival.

 

There was something like hurt in Coulson’s eyes, but it was gone so fast that Clint wasn't sure if it had really been there or if it had just been wishful thinking.   
The warm hand that had been ever so slightly in contact with his body vanished as Coulson pulled back as if he’d burnt himself on Clint’s skin.

 

Though they were still only few inches apart, it suddenly felt as if Coulson was a mile away. He’d distanced himself from Clint in an instant, too fast for the archer to react. He couldn't leave it at that; he’d tried so hard not to lose Coulson, he wouldn't let that happen now because of his foolishness and his embarrassing tendency to always use the wrong words.   
Clint opened his mouth, ready to explain himself, to tell Coulson that he didn't feel uncomfortable because of the reasons Coulson obviously mistakenly assumed and that the discomfort written on his face wasn't caused by Coulson’s closeness…

 

Unfortunately Coulson got ahead of him.  
“There’s no need to explain. I perfectly understand. I’ll keep our contact to a minimum and make sure that you won’t have to endure a situation like this with me again.”

 

A few minutes ago, Clint wouldn't have been able to think of anything that could make him feel colder than the frostiness outside. Now he did.   
Coulson wasn't looking at him anymore, he had closed his eyes but the harsh line of his mouth and the tenseness of his body gave away that he wasn't even close to sleeping.

 

Clint shivered violently. He knew he had fucked it up. Like he always did. Fucking up and archery were the very few talents he could always count on. Though while his skills with a bow had saved his life more than once, his second talent had gotten him into trouble at least as often. This time, however, he refused to give up.

 

A reasonable person would have tried to talk things out; tell Coulson that this obviously was some kind of misunderstanding, giving only as much away that Coulson would understand that Clint trusted him while keeping his true feelings safely locked away…  
Unfortunately, broken hearts didn't tend to be reasonable.  
Therefore instead of thinking things through properly, Clint decided on the very first thing that came to his mind, born out of desperation and longing; something that would almost certainly make it worse. He decided to kiss Coulson.

 

His handler hadn't moved at all; he lay directly in front of Clint like he was set in stone, his eyes still completely closed. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest gave away that he was breathing.   
Clint swallowed, his face merely inches away from Coulson. Only a little bit further and their lips would be touching… 

 

When the archer closed his eyes, a flicker of hesitation crossed his mind albeit it didn't last long.   
This would be his only chance; he’d rather steal a kiss from Coulson than never know what it was like to taste him. He’d make it worth whatever consequences would follow, ‘cause right now he had nothing to lose – or at least nothing that he hadn't already lost.  
In one fluid motion he closed that last bit of distance between them.

 

Their lips brushed and lingered for a second, before Clint leaned further into the kiss. He was desperate to get as much of this caress as possible before Coulson overcame his state of shock and punched him – or whatever else he’d be doing in a second.   
Clint was so busy drinking in their intimacy that he didn't notice Coulson had moved until his hand closed firmly around his shoulder, pushing him onto his back in the blink of an eye.  
The archer gasped in surprise, opening his mouth which Coulson took as invitation to slide his tongue past Clint’s lips and taste him properly.   
The mixture of fear and surprise still tingling in his stomach, Clint simply held onto the man on top of him, holding him close as if he intended to never let him go.  
A hand at the small of his back held him equally close; warm, firm and secure, and Clint couldn't explain how his own hand had gotten at the back of Coulson’s neck. To be honest, he didn't care. He had other things on his mind. Like the way Coulson was kissing him – slow but passionate and so thoroughly that it made Clint dizzy.

 

They had to break the kiss eventually to get some air, but Clint couldn't help but steal another one right away, quick and chaste, just a brush of lips, to make sure that this was real, that this wasn't some kind of frostbite-induced hallucination.   
Coulson smiled at him, the severity in his eyes from before had given way to warmth and gentleness and something that looked so very close to heartfelt affection it melted every splinter of hurt out of Clint’s chest.   
The older agent gently touched the younger one's face, caressing his cheek with his thumb so softly Clint couldn't help but sigh.   
They didn't need words to explain. Not anymore.

 

It was Coulson who finally broke the meaningful silence between them.   
“Maybe we should take that down into the handbook; kissing definitely warms up faster than the standard procedure.”   
The archer laughed, completely at ease. So just because they’d kissed didn't mean they’d have to change their playful little banters.  
“I hope you know that if you do that I’ll refuse to go on missions in cold areas with anybody else but you.”   
When the older man spoke again, there was an underlying promise in his words that made Clint’s heart flutter.  
“No problem. I’ll make sure that from now on I’m the only one you’ll share a mattress with.”

 

~~~~~~  
The end


End file.
